


Worth

by Black_Crystal_Dragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Coda, Comfort, Episode: s01e13 Le Morte D'Arthur, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-26
Updated: 2009-02-26
Packaged: 2019-04-24 19:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Crystal_Dragon/pseuds/Black_Crystal_Dragon
Summary: When he gets back from defeating Nimueh, one of the first things Merlin does is go to Arthur …A short coda to the series 1 episode Le Morte D’Arthur.





	Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Archived to AO3 18 April 2018.

Arthur was sleeping when Merlin crept into his room and folded himself into the chair at the bedside. It was late, and he felt tired right down to the marrow of his bones, but he needed to be here; he needed to watch Arthur breathe for a while, reassure himself that everything had slotted back into its rightful place. He lifted his feet onto the edge of the seat, hugging his knees, and stared down at the Crown Prince of Camelot.

The firelight was dim now, the fire itself barely more than a red glow of embers and the occasional tongue of flame, but what light there was caught in Arthur’s hair, gilded away the pale cast to his skin. There was a warm flush to his cheeks, but it was not the sickly heat of fever, brought on by a slow and untreatable poison.

Was Arthur worth it? The question had been turning over and over in his unconscious from the moment he saw his mother, sick almost to the point of death, but it was only now, in the aftermath, that he could bring himself to properly consider the question. After all, Arthur was hardly a saint; admittedly, he was less of a selfish bully than he had been when they had first met, but Merlin’s list of his faults could still fill several sheets of parchment, and seemed to grow daily.

Arthur shifted in his sleep, a soft frown curving his eyebrows down and in as he rolled onto his side to face Merlin, curling into himself slightly. In sleep, his features lost all of their familiar arrogance, and suddenly Merlin could understand why the young ladies of the court – and some of the older ones – were so completely enamoured with Camelot’s prince, despite his brash overconfidence. He looked younger, too, and in that face Merlin could see the man the Dragon talked about – the Arthur whose destiny was entwined with his own.

He was worth it, Merlin decided. All the strife that had come from saving his life had not been fun, or anything Merlin had a desire to repeat, but seeing Arthur alive and well made it worth every moment.

Arthur shifted again, restlessly this time, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm over the other side of the bed. He whined, turning his face away as if he could feel Merlin’s gaze, his frown deepening to crease his forehead. He muttered something that Merlin couldn’t make out, his fingers grasping fruitlessly at the bedcovers, and without thinking Merlin reached out. “Shh.”

His hand landed gently on Arthur’s shoulder, and almost immediately the prince stilled. As Merlin stroked once down to his elbow and back up again, his breathing eased back into a steady rhythm and his fingers slowly released their fistfuls of cloth. He let his hand come to rest on Arthur’s shoulder, over the wad of bandages that concealed his wound. Merlin shuddered; of all the horrible things he had faced in the past few days, seeing Arthur so still and quiet, his breath and heartbeat so faint that he looked dead already, had been the worst of them all, somehow.

In his sleep, Arthur murmured something unintelligible and drew his outstretched hand back, placing it over Merlin’s on his shoulder and turning his head until his cheek rested against his own knuckles. Merlin shifted in the chair, making himself as comfortable as he could before leaning back and closing his eyes. He made no attempt to reclaim his hand.


End file.
